


Everything’s Going So Well

by acequid



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Gen, Generally canon-compliant, Santana Lopez & Tina Cohen-Chang Friendship, Season 2, brittana and tike endgame, i hesitate to name this crack because i like it a lot, santana and tina are Bros, santana has other friends, the unholy trinity are important but
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:35:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24779230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acequid/pseuds/acequid
Summary: Santana doesn’t have many friends. Neither does Tina. Somehow, they work.(Santana’s simping, Brittany’s dating Artie, Quinn’s insane, and Tina was just trying to be nice.)
Relationships: Mike Chang/Tina Cohen-Chang, Santana Lopez & Tina Cohen-Chang, Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53





	1. Square Cut

It starts with, “He’s cheating on you, you know.”

Tina flinches on instinct. Not from the words, but from the voice. She can’t remember one single time when that judgemental tone was slinging anything but vaguely racist barbs in her direction. 

She shuts her locker carefully before turning to face the other girl. “What?” She asks. 

Santana stands, hip cocked, arms crossed, lips pursed, in the middle of the hallway. The mid-period traffic parts around her Cheerios uniform like water around a rock. Tina sort of wishes the crowd would carry her away.

“Boy-Chang. He’s cheating on you.” Santana says it with such cool certainty that for a second, Tina believes her.

And then Tina remembers that aside from occasional jabs in the choir room, Santana has never actually spoken to her, ever. Why would she? The two of them belong to completely different social strata. In highschool, they might as well live on two different planets. If it weren’t for Glee, Santana wouldn’t even know she existed. (Tina’s still not entirely sure Santana even knows her name.) Clearly, this is some sort of weird cheerleading hazing ritual, and Tina’s been made the unwitting target. Or, possibly it could just be Santana being a bitch for no reason, which would make just as much, if not more, sense. 

In any case, Tina resolves that she’s being messed with. Tina Cohen-Chang is many things, but she is not dumb. And she will not be gaslighted.

In probably the bravest move Tina’s made in her short 16 years on the planet, she rolls her eyes at Santana Lopez. “Mike isn’t cheating on me.” 

And then she turns down the hallway, half expecting to hear a scathing critique of her clothes, or her ethnicity, or her facial features, or to feel claws in her hair, or something. 

Instead, the cheerleader falls into step beside her.

“He is. Trust me, I _know_ cheating, I do it all the time. He and Britt are off getting their freak on every time they do ‘dance practice’–“ (she says it with air quotes, and Tina fumes) “– and you and Professor X are too dense to see it.” 

Freshman year Tina would have burst into tears right then and there. Freshman year Tina would have despaired at the thought of her loving, kind, _parental-approved_ perfect boyfriend leaving her for a gorgeous, talented dancer like Brittany. Freshman year Tina would have cowed and stuttered and submitted totally to the word of anyone more popular than her, let alone one of the heads of the school.

Sophomore year Tina is not taking any shit. 

She pulls the straps of her backpack tighter and says, “Look, Santana. Just because you and Quinn and probably your whole Cheerios squad think cheating is some kind of Olympic sport doesn’t mean the rest of the world does as well. Mike wouldn’t do that to me. He’s a good guy, and he loves me. He and Brittany are the best dancers on the team. Of course they’re friends. Guys and girls _can_ be just friends, you know.” 

Santana snorts. “Wheels, I expected. But I never pegged _you_ as an idiot, Tina. Devil-worshiping vampire, sure. But not stupid.” 

That Santana does in fact know her name seems relatively unimportant in the moment. She’ll think about it, later, but right now all she’s focused on are the accusations being sent Mike’s way. The pair pull up short in front of Tina’s next class and linger outside the doorway. 

“Even if it _were_ true, which it isn’t, why would you care? Why are you telling me this? Frankly, it’s none of your business.” It’s Tina’s turn to cross her arms. (She would never admit it, but she’s deeply proud of how she’s handling this whole situation. All cool and confident. She feels like Mercedes.) 

Santana takes a step into Tina’s personal space, glowering. The younger girl doesn’t flinch. “Hey, I’m doing you a _favor_ here. If you don’t want my expert advice? Fine. Don’t take it. But when you find out your _boyfriend’s_ been knocking more than just dancing boots with Britts, don’t come crying to Glee with some John Mayer sob song crap. I’ll kick your ass.”

Tina shrugs. “Don’t worry, I won’t. Because he isn’t.” Something occurs to her. “Honestly, you don’t seem all that certain yourself. Why don’t you just, I don’t know, ask Brittany or something? I’m sure she’d clear everything right up.” 

Santana winces. It’s interesting, Tina’s never seen an actual, real-life wince before. Her face kind of twitches, like she’s just stubbed her toe. Like she’s in pain. 

“Brittany and I…” She hesitates, and that’s also something Tina’s never seen before. Santana Lopez doesn’t hesitate. Santana Lopez opens her mouth and liquid sass comes out. Always. “...we’re working through some things.” She must pick up on Tina’s confused expression, because she quickly spits, “Things that don’t involve _you_ , Girl-Chang. I just can’t, okay?” (And her words are bitchy, sure, but her tone is something else. Desperate? Sad?) “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to talk to her to know what’s going on. I can just tell.” She gives Tina an absolutely withering look as she pivots on her heel, heading back the way they came.

Tina gets the unnerving sense that she’s just seen something she wasn’t supposed to. Namely, Santana’s flawless facade cracking, just a little. It throws her off-balance. Which is why instead of telling Santana off for persisting in spreading a nasty lie about her boyfriend, like she’s supposed to, Tina blurts, “Sorry.”

Santana freezes, but doesn’t turn around. For the life of her, Tina can’t figure out why she keeps talking. But she does. 

“About you and Brittany. You guys always seem so close. Just, if something happened, it probably sucked. And I know we aren’t really friends, and you’re like, actively accusing my boyfriend of cheating on me with no real proof, but...if you need someone to talk to,” she shrugs, even though Santana can’t see her. It’s instinct for Tina: trying to be nice. Not because she’s secretly yearning for Cheerios status and thinks kissing up to Santana is how to get it. Not because she’s not mad at the other girl for apparently trying to ruin her relationship. But because she herself would hate to not have anyone to talk to, if something happened between her and her best friend. And even though Santana walks around dressed identically to dozens of other girls at this school, she’s always seemed kind of...lonely to Tina. Like she wants to be on top of that group so bad, she’s never bothered trying to be a part of it.

Santana half-turns, studying the junction between lockers and floor rather than Tina’s face. Her jaw works, like she’s chewing on words and can’t quite figure out how to say them. Finally, with her usual fire gone, she manages, “Yeah, well. If I waste my time talking to anyone, it won’t be to you. So don’t get your hopes up.” And it’s mean, but not vicious. Even less so, because she quickly adds, “But thanks,” before walking away faster than strictly necessary. 

So it starts with “He’s cheating on you.”

But looking back on it, Tina thinks maybe it actually started with “Sorry.” Or possibly, “But thanks.” 

(That night, she calls Mike and asks him flat-out. He denies it, of course, and he’s hurt that she would ever think that, but then she explains the whole Santana thing and he gets angry. Or, as close to angry as Mike can manage. It’s alright, she never believed the rumor anyway.) 

(She calls Artie after, out of curiosity. “Hey, you don’t think Brittany’s cheating on you, right?” Her voice is light. The silence on the end of the line is anything but. “What makes you say that?” His eventual reply is slow, carefully enunciated. Tina’s at a loss. She _knows_ Brittany and Mike aren’t fooling around. So why is Artie so serious?)

(“Oh. Just, you know, stupid rumors. Don’t worry, of course she’s not.”)

(It’s not a lie, exactly, but she still covers for Santana. She doesn’t know why.)

(She hangs up.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole idea of Santana and Tina being friends came from them canonically writing Trouty Mouth together. So...thanks, Sam?


	2. Pear Shaped

It’s seven o’clock on a Friday night, and Tina is choking on tea.

Her phone rings on her desk as she swipes at a box of Kleenex to sop up the liquid that was coughed onto her computer screen. _Santana Lopez,_ the caller ID shines at her. 

The caller ID has never, not once, said that before.

She picks up the phone and hovers over the accept button. This has to be a misdial. Her gut tells her it’s a misdial. A misdial or a prank, and she’s not sure which is preferable. 

Weighing the consequences of ignoring a call from Santana against, well, actually talking to Santana, she holds her breath and brings the phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

Santana’s voice comes biting over the line immediately. “Did you and Artie ever do it?”

Tina’s mouth drops open, sure that she misheard. “I—did we…” she scrambles, “did me and Artie ever _what?”_

Santana’s long-suffering sigh gives Tina enough time to sit up straighter in her chair and mentally prepare for whatever comes next. 

“Did you ever do the nasty. Screw. You know, have _sex.”_

Tina barks out a short laugh of disbelief. Whatever she was expecting her first phone call (and second-ever conversation) with Santana to be about, it certainly wasn’t this. 

“That’s none of your—I mean, you can’t—I... _what?_ “

“Did you swipe the rolling wonder’s V-card, Cohen-Chang, that’s all I’m asking.”

Tina can imagine the other girl rolling her eyes. “Why do you want to know?” She challenges, instead of answering.

“It’s a yes or no question.”

“Yeah, but you can’t just _ask_ people that!” Tina leans over to the wastebasket near her desk and chucks the tissues away. 

“Sure I can. I just did,” there’s a pause, and Tina can hear a faint tapping over the line, like fingernails on a hard surface. “Hey okay, maybe you’re confused. I should clarify, I’m not at all interested in _your_ sex life. Like, not at _all._ In fact, the thought of you getting it on with anyone is kind of nauseating—”

“Santana!” 

“—yeah, yeah. Bottom line, I’m not getting up in your business. Just Artie’s.”

“Right...because that makes it better,” Tina replies. “Sex—” she interrupts herself to glance nervously at her shut bedroom door. Her parents are downstairs, but still. She lowers her voice. “ _Sex_ is a two-way street, last time I checked.”

“And I just want to know if you two crossed it! Geez, it’s not difficult.”

Tina considers the english paper on her computer screen for a minute, thinking. Santana wanting to know the details of who’s screwing who is nothing surprising. Santana caring about anyone not wearing a sports jersey or a Cheerios uniform? Practically unheard of. “If I tell you, will you tell me why you want to know so badly?”

“No.”

“Does it have to do with Brittany?” Tina takes a stab.

“No!” Santana’s reply is too fast, too adamant. 

_Got you,_ Tina thinks. So...what? Santana wants to know if Artie’s a virgin? Tina’s fairly certain Brittany’s slept with literally half the school, some of whom were bound to be virgins as well, so she’s not exactly sure what’s special about Artie.

“Alright, fine,” Tina caves, if for no other reason than she wants more information. “We never did. I’m a— we never did. Happy?”

There’s silence for so long, Tina thinks she might’ve been hung up on. “Santana? Are you still...”

“Shit,” the other girl’s voice is a whisper. “ _Shit."_

Huh. Unexpected. “What? What’s wrong?” Tina asks, “Don’t tell me my sexless relationship is somehow upsetting for you.”

“No, it’s not _your..._ crap. You didn’t...so he’s…”

“A virgin? Not that you needed to know in _any_ way, but, yeah, I guess. He is.”

“Was.”

Tina furrows her brow. “Was?”

Santana sighs again, but this time it’s resigned. “He _was._ Britt and he just…” She chuckles, and it sounds barely-contained. Hysterical, almost. “ _You_ didn’t, so...she was his first, that means.”

Tina’s brain spins this piece of news around in surprise. “I-I mean, yeah, I guess it would.” 

_"Shit._ You know what’s going to happen now, don’t you? _”_

Tina opens and closes her mouth ineffectually, overwhelmed with the sinking feeling that this conversation is rapidly getting away from her. “...No?”

“He’s going to get _attached._ ” She says it with so much scorn that Tina actually starts to fear for Artie’s safety. “He’s going to think he’s special. He’s going to think that they’re _soulmates,_ and that they’re going to get married right after high school and have a crop of four-eyed half-loser babies and buy a _house_ and a _dog_ and she’ll end up living in Lima forever—” Santana’s voice raises with every word until there’s a crash so loud that Tina has to jerk the phone away from her ear.

“Santana?” She asks in alarm. “Are you okay?”

The sound of deep breathing filters over the air. When Santana speaks again, her words come out strained. “Yeah. I’m fine. My point is just...he’ll think that. Guys like him always think that.”

Tina honestly doesn’t know why Santana’s still talking at this point. She does know that once the other girl remembers they’re not, strictly, friends again, she’ll hang up. And sue her, but Tina’s curious. She’s never seen (or more accurately, heard) Santana like this, and she wants to keep her talking. “Guys like him?” 

“Yeah. Y’know. Guys no one looks at twice, until Britt decides she wants to add a couple more notches to her bedpost. Irrelevant guys. They’re stupid and awful and they fall in love too easily.”

Tina winces a little at hearing her ex-boyfriend/current-friend insulted so ruthlessly, but she’s absolutely not going to say anything about it. Instead she says, “Well...so what? There have been a bunch of these guys, right? And none of them are still around, Brittany’s not still with any of them. That must mean something.”

“This time’s different.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re— I mean, I’m…” and Tina can practically hear Santana’s internal struggle. “Because it is! Because she might actually _like_ him this time—” She cuts out.

Silence.

“Santana?” Tina prods, heart sinking. She feels like a line’s been crossed, somewhere.

Santana speaks again, low and dangerous. “If you tell anyone I called you, I’ll shave your head in your sleep.” 

The call disconnects.

Tina is left staring at her phone in disbelief. “Did that just happen?” she asks her empty room.

There is no response. 


End file.
